Maze of Death Read online

  ‘I never drink on duty,’ said Lieutenant Sideras sternly, but then he smiled and added, ‘So is lucky I have just finished for the night.’ He lifted the glass in a toast and took a generous sip.

  ‘Perhaps Mr Travis went back to the mainland,’ suggested Alec.

  Lieutenant Sideras shook his head. ‘I know the captains of all the charter boats that operate out of Heraklion,’ he said. ‘One remembers bringing him across from the mainland, but none took him back again.’

  ‘Maybe he flew,’ suggested Ethan.

  ‘Not unless he grew wings,’ said the lieutenant. ‘We have no airstrip on the island. A seaplane sometimes touches down in the bay to deliver supplies, but again, I know the pilot.’ He frowned, sipped at his drink. ‘The problem is . . . well, I should not really be telling you this, but Mr Travis is not the only one to go missing in this way. He is, in fact, one of many visitors to disappear over the last two years.’

  ‘Many?’ Alec raised his eyebrows.

  Lieutenant Sideras nodded. ‘It’s a mystery,’ he admitted. ‘Always the same story – a young man, travelling alone. They just vanish without a trace. I only tell you this, so you will be on your guard.’ He nodded towards Alec. ‘We wouldn’t want anyone else to go missing, would we?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry on that score,’ said Ethan. ‘On this trip, we don’t intend to let Alec out of our sight for a minute. He, er . . . does seem to have a knack for getting himself into trouble.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Lieutenant Sideras seemed amused. ‘What kind of trouble?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe it if we told you,’ said Coates.

  ‘Try me,’ suggested Lieutenant Sideras.

  ‘All right,’ said Alec. He looked at his two companions, half expecting them to tell him to stay silent, but neither of them said anything. So he took a deep breath. ‘It all began two years ago in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. I went out there to work on my uncle’s archaeological dig . . .’

  CHAPTER THREE

  At Knossos

  THE DRIVER PULLED the pony to a halt and glanced over his shoulder at his passengers. It was another fine morning and he had picked them up from the taverna bright and early, as arranged.

  ‘Here, Knossos,’ he announced rather grandly and indicated a small opening in a row of tall cypress trees. The three passengers climbed down. Coates paid the driver and arranged for him to return at five p.m. The man nodded, flicked his whip and urged the pony round in a tight circle, setting off back the way they had come.

  Alec turned to survey the entrance to the site. An old man sat taking admission money at a rough wooden table. He had a few tattered-looking guidebooks for sale. Alec could see that several tourists were wandering around the site, some of them carrying box cameras. Most of the men were sweating in suits and overcoats, while the women favoured full-length dresses and straw bonnets. Alec could never understand why more travellers to hot climates didn’t adopt the more sensible dress of short-sleeved cotton shirts and shorts, as he did.

  Coates paid the admission price and they wandered in through the entrance. They found themselves on a paved open area. Pine and cypress trees bordered the path to their left. To their right, they could see the start of the ruins themselves, cut into the side of a hill.

  As they walked, Alec told them what little he knew about Knossos. ‘It belongs to the oldest civilization in Europe,’ he said. ‘Its origins date back to the Neolithic age, but the first real building started around 2000 BC. Over the centuries, Knossos was destroyed by earthquakes time and time again. But each time it came back bigger and grander than before. In its heyday there must have been 10,000 people living here.’

  Ethan let out a low whistle. ‘You wouldn’t think it to look at it now,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, this is really only a small part of the city. Sir Arthur Evans started excavating here twenty-five years ago. He’s the one who named the civilization “Minoan”, after the myth of King Minos of Crete. But a lot of people have criticized his methods.’ Alec pointed to an area where some attempt had been made to rebuild the ruins, to give visitors an impression of what first-floor storeys must have looked like. Brightly painted pillars had been installed and wall frescoes repainted in garish colours. Here and there, steel girders and large chunks of modern concrete had also been used with no real attempt to disguise them.

  ‘It’s not very sympathetic to the original parts,’ observed Coates. ‘But on the other hand, I suppose it does give you a better idea of the scale of things.’

  They passed in through an archway, descended some gypsum steps and found themselves in a place called the throne room. It was empty apart from a simple wooden chair standing against one stone wall.

  ‘Doesn’t look very grand for a king,’ observed Ethan.

  ‘Oh, that’s not original,’ said Alec. ‘They did find the carbonized remains of what might have been a wooden throne, so that’s where the name comes from. And to be honest, there’s no real evidence this place ever was a throne room. It’s more likely that these buildings were a temple or a place of government. Evans always refers to it as a palace, but he has some odd ideas about the Minoans. He thinks of them as these artistic, peace-loving people who never went to war. The problem is, his ideas are shaped by stories from Greek mythology.’

  ‘Sir Arthur Evans is a great man,’ said a voice behind Alec. ‘I’ll not tolerate a bad word about him.’

  Alec turned in surprise to see a man had just descended the steps into the room – a tall, but heavily set fellow dressed in a white linen suit, his head covered by a straw fedora. He was perhaps in his fifties, with a rugged suntanned face and a carefully trimmed white beard adorning his square jaw. From beneath the brim of his hat two cornflower-blue eyes regarded Alec with evident interest. A girl appeared a few paces behind the newcomer. She too was tall, but slim, her hair glossy black and her large eyes a deep chestnut brown. She was almost shockingly pretty and Alec judged her to be about the same age as him – maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. For a moment, their eyes met and Alec saw something that made him look quickly away again – a powerful intensity that he would never have expected in the eyes of a stranger, particularly those of a girl. Then a third person entered the room, a small, wiry man who Alec decided might be Chinese or Japanese. He stood off at a short distance, his arms at his sides, but it was evident to Alec that the man was watching the scene in front of him intently.

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t criticizing,’ said Alec apologetically. ‘I too have a high regard for Sir Arthur’s work. I just think that some of his ideas are a little . . . fanciful.’

  ‘Sir Arthur is undoubtedly a dreamer,’ said the man, and Alec registered now that he had a Scottish accent, not a Glaswegian growl but the more refined tones of Edinburgh. ‘A visionary. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him on a couple of occasions and we have shared our thoughts on the Minoans. There are all too few people like him in the field of archaeology. Such talents should be nurtured.’ The man paused, looking from Alec to his companions and back again. ‘I must say it’s refreshing to encounter a young man with such forthright views. Most boys your age think about cricket and football and not much else.’

  ‘I’m planning to be an archaeologist,’ said Alec. He almost added, ‘when I grow up,’ but realized that this would seem decidedly odd coming from a seventeen-year-old. ‘I’m going up to Oxford in September to study anthropology.’

  ‘Excellent.’ The man stepped closer and extended a large hand. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. Tobias Wolfe, at your service.’

  ‘Alec Devlin.’ Alec shook his hand firmly. ‘May I introduce my valet, Coates? And this is Mr Ethan Wade.’

  ‘Most pleased to meet you,’ said Wolfe, shaking their hands too. He gestured to the girl beside him, as though as an afterthought. ‘And this is my daughter, Ariadne.’ He made no attempt to introduce the other man.

  The girl smiled, but lowered her head, as though afraid to say anything in front of her father.
/>   ‘Say, isn’t that a coincidence?’ exclaimed Ethan. ‘There’s a great big fancy yacht in the harbour with the same name.’

  Wolfe smiled. ‘Not a coincidence at all,’ he said, ‘since it’s my boat and I named it after my daughter. I’m glad you think of my yacht as, er . . . “fancy”.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know much about boats, but she sure is a sight for sore eyes,’ said Ethan. ‘We noticed her when we arrived yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re new to the island?’ Wolfe smiled. ‘And what do you think of Crete?’

  ‘We’ve hardly had time to see any of it,’ said Coates. ‘Master Alec was very keen to come over here and study Knossos. Which was what we were attempting to do when you arrived.’

  If the remark had been designed to dissuade Wolfe and his daughter from staying any longer, it failed. The big man simply smiled again. ‘Ah, Knossos,’ he said. ‘I am driven to visit here from time to time, but I cannot say that the excavations are all that inspiring. They certainly can’t compare with the ones on my island.’

  Alec couldn’t help raising his eyebrows at that remark. ‘Your island?’ he echoed. ‘You don’t live on Crete?’

  ‘No, but I visit from time to time. My island is several nautical miles to the north of Crete. It’s called Candia.’

  ‘I can’t say I’ve heard of it,’ said Coates.

  But Alec was intrigued. ‘Surely, that’s the old Venetian name for Crete, isn’t it?’

  Wolfe chuckled. ‘Oh, you’re very good,’ he said. ‘Yes, that’s right. I’m a bit of a romantic at heart and it pleased me to name the island in this way.’

  Ethan stared at him. ‘I don’t get it. You named the island? How come?’

  ‘Oh, forgive me, I should have explained. It’s my island, Mr Wade. I . . . own it, which means I can pretty much call it what I like.’ He smiled, displaying two rows of even white teeth. ‘I’m afraid I am rather wealthy.’

  The girl glanced at him, as though embarrassed by his words. ‘Papa,’ she said.

  ‘You must forgive my daughter,’ said Wolfe. ‘She hates it when I talk about money. I think Ariadne would be much happier if we lived in poverty.’ He glanced at her and Alec noticed how the girl looked quickly away, as if afraid to meet her father’s gaze. Wolfe continued. ‘Anyway, there’s no getting around it, I do own an island. More interestingly, at least for you, young man, it’s an island that houses some quite extraordinary archaeological remains.’ He smiled mysteriously and Alec felt his curiosity aroused. ‘Remains that make Sir Arthur’s discovery look rather . . . insignificant by comparison.’

  ‘Really?’ Coates looked doubtful. ‘Surely we’d have heard about something as grand as that.’

  Wolfe looked at him, a little coldly, Alec thought. ‘I make it my business to ensure the world does not find out about the riches of Candia,’ he said. ‘I have no wish to see it become a haven for tourists and thrill-seekers. You only have to look at what’s happening here.’ He gestured disdainfully around at the tourists passing by the entrance to the throne room. ‘All these visitors with their cameras and their guidebooks. Oh, it’s only a trickle now, but in years to come, it will be a flood. A flood of ignorant fools with no other interest than to stand and gawp at the wonders of a lost civilization.’

  Coates smiled. ‘Is that not what we’re doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh come, Mr Coates, you’re being modest, I think. I can tell that you three are people with more than just a casual interest in archaeology. I’d be willing to bet that you’ve spent time uncovering the secrets of the past.’

  ‘We have,’ admitted Alec. ‘My uncle is Sir William Devlin. He spent years working in the Valley of the Kings and I assisted him during my school holidays.’

  The Scotsman nodded. ‘I know of him. In fact, I’ve read every word he’s ever written. I’m a keen student of archaeology and his books are among the best I’ve ever discovered. But I believe I heard that he dropped out of the archaeology game a couple of years ago. There were rumours he had some kind of bad experience out in Egypt.’

  ‘I wouldn’t pay any attention to such gossip,’ said Coates flatly and Wolfe smiled, as though he wasn’t fooled for a moment.

  ‘Shall we walk?’ Wolfe suggested; and before they could say anything else he led the way out of the room and up the steps into the sunlight, talking as he went.

  There was never any question of not accompanying him. Wolfe had the kind of rough charisma that made the others feel compelled to fall into step with him. Alec found that he was already fascinated by the man, impressed by his evident wealth and his carefree confidence. He was also a brilliant conversationalist – when he talked you couldn’t stop yourself from hanging on to every word.

  ‘So, you know the Valley of the Kings?’ said Wolfe. ‘That’s a perfect example of what happens when the world takes an interest in something that should be available only to a chosen few. I’m told that these days archaeological teams in the valley can barely function with the droves of tourists hanging on to their every move. Such sacred ground should never have been thrown open to the common herd.’

  Alec frowned. ‘Don’t you think that everybody has a right to see it?’ he asked.

  ‘My father doesn’t have much time for ordinary people,’ said Ariadne, who was walking on Alec’s other side. ‘He thinks that they should be made to stay at home.’ It was the first time she had spoken more than a few words and Alec noted that her voice had no trace of that Edinburgh accent. She sounded more like a native of these parts.

  ‘It’s true, I’m fairly selfish about Candia,’ admitted Wolfe. ‘I prefer to keep its wonders to myself and for the enjoyment of a few select friends and acquaintances – people I feel I can trust.’ He looked at Alec for a moment. ‘I wonder . . . do you suppose I could trust you, Master Devlin?’

  Alec was taken aback by the directness of the question. ‘I . . . suppose that depends on what you wish to trust me with,’ he said.

  ‘I’m wondering if you would like to come to the island as my guest,’ said Wolfe. He paused and looked back at the others. ‘All of you,’ he added. ‘Actually, this is a most fortuitous meeting. It just so happens that a boat will be at the harbour in Heraklion the day after tomorrow at ten o’clock, to pick up a few other people I’ve invited. I’d be honoured if you’d agree to join them.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Coates. ‘To be honest, I’m a little confused.’

  ‘Confused?’

  ‘Yes. Weren’t you just saying that you don’t encourage visitors?’

  ‘I was talking about tourists,’ explained Wolfe. ‘This is quite different. The nephew of Sir William Devlin, and his closest associates? It would be an honour to have such people as yourselves pay my island a visit; and I’ve no doubt that you would really appreciate such a unique experience.’

  ‘Well . . .’ said Alec.

  ‘I can offer you a few days in the comfort of my home, fine food and wines . . . and, of course, the opportunity to see the treasures of Candia.’ Wolfe leaned closer to Alec as though to confess a secret. ‘Trust me, my boy. They are truly spectacular. This is not the kind of offer you get every day.’

  Alec frowned. ‘It’s very kind of you to invite us, but . . .’

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to decide right now. If you are on jetty number three for ten o’clock, the day after tomorrow, all well and good. If not, you’ll only have yourselves to blame; but I must warn you, you’ll be missing the opportunity of a lifetime.’ Wolfe paused, took a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat and flipped open the case. ‘Well, time’s moving on and we must be going. I have a few errands to run before we return to Candia.’ He shook hands with Alec and the others again. ‘So pleased to have made your acquaintance.’ He looked at Coates. ‘I’ll let you get back to your sightseeing now,’ he said and turned to go, but Ariadne stepped forward and held out her hand to Alec.

  ‘Master Devlin,’ she said. Alec took her hand automatically and almost reacte
d in surprise when he realized that she had something in the palm of her hand, something that she was pressing into his. It felt like a piece of folded-up paper. As he released her grip he allowed his fingers to scoop up the paper, keeping his fist clenched as he returned it to his side.

  ‘Miss Wolfe,’ he said, and he bowed his head slightly. She gave him one more intense stare, then smiled and turned to follow her father towards the exit. The other man hesitated for a moment, then bowed his head, turned and went after them.

  ‘Well, what did you make of him?’ murmured Ethan, once they were out of earshot.

  ‘I thought he had entirely too high an opinion of himself,’ said Coates flatly.

  ‘And what about the other guy, the one who didn’t say anything?’ asked Ethan. ‘He seemed to me like some kind of bodyguard. Mind you, a guy who owns a yacht like the Ariadne must be a prime target for kidnappers.’

  Coates grunted. ‘He seemed to think we’d be ready to drop everything just to have a look at this precious island of his. What say you, Master Alec?’

  ‘Hmm?’ Alec had been trying to get a sly look at the piece of paper in his hand, but without success. For some reason, he didn’t want Coates and Ethan to know about it, at least not until he had a better idea of what was going on. ‘Oh . . . I thought he was . . . interesting. Do you think it’s true, about the archaeological remains?’

  ‘I don’t see why he’d lie about it,’ said Ethan. ‘Especially since he’s invited us to go and look at ’em.’

  ‘We shan’t go, of course,’ said Coates.

  Alec looked at him. ‘Why not?’ he asked.

  ‘Because your father said we were to stay on Crete,’ Coates reminded him. ‘He was very insistent on the matter.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not as though we’d really be leaving, is it?’ argued Alec. ‘I mean, it’s only a few miles to the north.’

  ‘That’s hardly the point. We promised your father we would stay on this island, and that’s exactly what we shall do. I shall brook no argument on the matter.’ And with that Coates walked rather imperiously away.